


Opia

by Aquielle



Series: Ineffable Emotion [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bloody Kisses, M/M, Melancholy thoughts, Mopey Will, Sorrow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 21:52:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6257284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquielle/pseuds/Aquielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will misses Abigail and contemplates his relationship with Hannibal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Opia

**Author's Note:**

> Opia: The ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable

The trip to Spain had been his idea. Fishing for bass in the Asturias had seemed like an excellent way to pass the time while waiting for the boat repairs to be completed. 

The melancholy that had seeped into him over the long, lonely hours on the water had surprised him. When he exploded at Hannibal at the slightest perceived poke he was almost stunned. 

Thoughts of Abigail had crept in and clouded his mind like a fog and it had left him unsettled in a way that he didn't know how to process.  What started as a contrary mood turned into three days of sullen, self-imposed isolation before Hannibal finally insisted that he come out and talk. Despite his anxiety he was relieved by the compassion in the doctor's tone. 

There are places Will can never set foot in again. People he will never see, not without tasting regret like blood in his mouth. He had hoped to be beyond regret, beyond fear, but emotions cling to him until they pull him under.

One of his greatest fears had been that Hannibal would become one of the regrets. That the fear of abandonment would stretch like a chasm between them. A graveyard filled with jagged memories and ghosts. He knows that he has been keeping Hannibal at arms length out of respect for one particular ghost, but standing across the room from each other is like a Spring thaw to his icy resolve and he can feel the ice start to crack. 

Will can't see the expression in Hannibal's eyes, he can only feel the weight of his gaze, restless but patient, like all predators. He can't bring himself to meet those eyes, they see into the core of his weakness. 

Hannibal had looked him in the eye during the final moments of Abigail's life. That horrific airing of grievances had lead to a revelation that terrified him. He had felt known in a way that made him look back. It had made him bold. Made him unflinching and in desperate need for understanding. The understanding had come, but at a price he never could have conceived of paying. 

The price of betrayal always comes due in flesh. His own and hers, in gouts of blood and cries that still linger inside his soul. 

They linger even though so much time has passed. Bricks erode and leaves fall to the ground and yet still she lingers. He knows that he must jump in and move with the tide to avoid being swept away by it. He has forgiven, but he can never forget. 

Forgetting would be dangerous. Hannibal may well be the only person who has ever truly understood him, but he is also a force beyond control. He is Eros and Thanatos muddled together until there is no separation. He is creation and destruction. Exquisite and terrifying. 

The room feels heavy with tension. Hannibal's neutral expression is betrayed by the muscle in his jaw as he clenches. He holds himself still, waiting for some signal. Every ounce of willpower brought to bear. All his predatory instincts leashed by Will's reticence. 

He thinks about why this has happened. He knows that nothing enters or exits this world without the blood of life spilling forth, but practical knowledge does not arrest his mourning. 

The look in Hannibal's eyes is concern tinged with regret as he catches Will's gaze. Something of his grief must cross his face, or maybe it's just the weariness that overtakes him. His sorrow drags his shoulders down and he drops his eyes from that penetrative stare. 

Whatever it is that Hannibal sees in him, he takes it as a signal to move forward. To reclaim and maybe to atone.

Reaching his hand to hook behind Will's nape, he buried his fingers in soft brown curls and pulls Will forward into a kiss that saps any possible resistance and weakens his knees. 

Hannibal doesn't give him a chance to confess his confusion or give life to his doubts. He grips tight and leans back to breathe across Will's kiss bruised lips "I am sorry, whatever my offenses I will make amends".

Will's eyes flutter shut in solace, he knows what comes next and he needs it in a way that aches and tears at his chest. He bites the inside of his lip to keep the words in, to keep the doubt at bay. 

"Speak the words Will, I will pay my penance" Hannibal states into him, cutting him open, eviscerating his resolve to hold the hurt within. 

"I miss her" he forces out, tipping his forehead to rest against Hannibal's temple. "Sometimes I'm just so furious at you, then I'm horrified at myself, I just don't know how to process it."

The fact that Hannibal would forsake all others, even someone as precious as Abigail, to reach Will. To force his hand, to make him adapt and evolve is sometimes an acerbic wound. 

"The weight of Abigail's death will be with me until I leave this world" Hannibal whispers into his hair, "like Mischa I will carry her always". 

Will sighs as Hannibal soothes him with gentle touches and words "Sometimes the burden falls on me".

"For that I am truly sorry, can you forgive me?"

Will feels an arm encircle his waist and Hannibal's breath on his lips and he opens enough to let his love in. His hand entwining with Hannibal's hand at his back, feeling the ridge of scar tissue and the tendons beneath. A reminder of the reciprocity between them.

His grip tightens around the wrist in defiance of the way the slide of tongue makes his mouth open wider, tearing at the bite mark inside, making him bleed. 

The slick heat of it makes him push forward and moan into Hannibal's mouth. As the kiss deepens the taste of blood grows into a feedback loop of sex and violence until Will can't remember who hurt who first. 

With ragged breaths they separate and Hannibal's lips are tinted with blood. His rapacious beauty stuns Will. From the dazed look in Hannibal's eyes the feeling is mutual. 

Will has never felt more vulnerable or more certain of himself in his life. He is a dichotomy. He is in love with his own demise. 

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd due to a wipe in my notes and an excess of mucus that has prevented my fucks from multiplying.


End file.
